1593 King Richard III
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Pages: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 Next page Reward to him that brings the traitor in? THIRD MESSENGER. Such proclamation hath been made, my Lord. Enter another MESSENGER FOURTH MESSENGER. Sir Thomas Lovel and Lord Marquis Dorset, 'Tis said, my liege, in Yorkshire are in arms. But this good comfort bring I to your Highness- The Britaine navy is dispers'd by tempest. Richmond in Dorsetshire sent out a boat Unto the shore, to ask those on the banks If they were his assistants, yea or no; Who answer'd him they came from Buckingham Upon his party. He, mistrusting them, Hois'd sail, and made his course again for Britaine. KING RICHARD. March on, march on, since we are up in arms; If not to fight with foreign enemies, Yet to beat down these rebels here at home. Re-enter CATESBY CATESBY. My liege, the Duke of Buckingham is taken- That is the best news. That the Earl of Richmond Is with a mighty power landed at Milford Is colder tidings, yet they must be told. KING RICHARD. Away towards Salisbury! While we reason here A royal battle might be won and lost. Some one take order Buckingham be brought To Salisbury; the rest march on with me. Flourish. Exeunt SCENE 5. LORD DERBY'S house Enter STANLEY and SIR CHRISTOPHER URSWICK STANLEY. Sir Christopher, tell Richmond this from me: That in the sty of the most deadly boar My son George Stanley is frank'd up in hold; If I revolt, off goes young George's head; The fear of that holds off my present aid. So, get thee gone; commend me to thy lord. Withal say that the Queen hath heartily consented He should espouse Elizabeth her daughter. But tell me, where is princely Richmond now? CHRISTOPHER. At Pembroke, or at Ha'rford west in Wales. STANLEY. What men of name resort to him? CHRISTOPHER. Sir Walter Herbert, a renowned soldier; SIR Gilbert Talbot, Sir William Stanley, OXFORD, redoubted Pembroke, Sir James Blunt, And Rice ap Thomas, with a valiant crew; And many other of great name and worth; And towards London do they bend their power, If by the way they be not fought withal. STANLEY. Well, hie thee to thy lord; I kiss his hand; My letter will resolve him of my mind. Farewell. Exeunt ACT V. SCENE 1. Salisbury. An open place Enter the SHERIFF and guard, with BUCKINGHAM, led to execution BUCKINGHAM. Will not King Richard let me speak with him? SHERIFF. No, my good lord; therefore be patient. BUCKINGHAM. Hastings, and Edward's children, Grey, and Rivers, Holy King Henry, and thy fair son Edward, Vaughan, and all that have miscarried By underhand corrupted foul injustice, If that your moody discontented souls Do through the clouds behold this present hour, Even for revenge mock my destruction! This is All-Souls' day, fellow, is it not? SHERIFF. It is, my lord. BUCKINGHAM. Why, then All-Souls' day is my body's doomsday. This is the day which in King Edward's time I wish'd might fall on me when I was found False to his children and his wife's allies; This is the day wherein I wish'd to fall By the false faith of him whom most I trusted; This, this All-Souls' day to my fearful soul Is the determin'd respite of my wrongs; That high All-Seer which I dallied with Hath turn'd my feigned prayer on my head And given in earnest what I begg'd in jest. Thus doth He force the swords of wicked men To turn their own points in their masters' bosoms. Thus Margaret's curse falls heavy on my neck. 'When he' quoth she 'shall split thy heart with sorrow, Remember Margaret was a prophetess.' Come lead me, officers, to the block of shame; Wrong hath but wrong, and blame the due of blame. Exeunt SCENE 2. Camp near Tamworth Enter RICHMOND, OXFORD, SIR JAMES BLUNT, SIR WALTER HERBERT, and others, with drum and colours RICHMOND. Fellows in arms, and my most loving friends, Bruis'd underneath the yoke of tyranny, Thus far into the bowels of the land Have we march'd on without impediment; And here receive we from our father Stanley Lines of fair comfort and encouragement. The wretched, bloody, and usurping boar, That spoil'd your summer fields and fruitful vines, Swills your warm blood like wash, and makes his trough In your embowell'd bosoms-this foul swine Is now even in the centre of this isle, Near to the town of Leicester, as we learn. From Tamworth thither is but one day's march. In God's name cheerly on, courageous friends, To reap the harvest of perpetual peace By this one bloody trial of sharp war. OXFORD. Every man's conscience is a thousand men, To fight against this guilty homicide. HERBERT. I doubt not but his friends will turn to us. BLUNT. He hath no friends but what are friends for fear, Which in his dearest need will fly from him. RICHMOND. All for our vantage. Then in God's name march. True hope is swift and flies with swallow's wings; Kings it makes gods, and meaner creatures kings. Exeunt SCENE 3. Bosworth Field Enter KING RICHARD in arms, with NORFOLK, RATCLIFF, the EARL of SURREYS and others KING RICHARD. Here pitch our tent, even here in Bosworth field. My Lord of Surrey, why look you so sad? SURREY. My heart is ten times lighter than my looks. KING RICHARD. My Lord of Norfolk! NORFOLK. Here, most gracious liege. KING RICHARD. Norfolk, we must have knocks; ha! must we not? NORFOLK. We must both give and take, my loving lord. KING RICHARD. Up With my tent! Here will I lie to-night; [Soldiers begin to set up the KING'S tent] But where to-morrow? Well, all's one for that. Who hath descried the number of the traitors? NORFOLK. Six or seven thousand is their utmost power. KING RICHARD. Why, our battalia trebles that account; Besides, the King's name is a tower of strength, Which they upon the adverse faction want. Up with the tent! Come, noble gentlemen, Let us survey the vantage of the ground. Call for some men of sound direction. Let's lack no discipline, make no delay; For, lords, to-morrow is a busy day. Exeunt Enter, on the other side of the field, RICHMOND, SIR WILLIAM BRANDON, OXFORD, DORSET, and others. Some pitch RICHMOND'S tent RICHMOND. The weary sun hath made a golden set, And by the bright tract of his fiery car Gives token of a goodly day to-morrow. Sir William Brandon, you shall bear my standard. Give me some ink and paper in my tent. I'll draw the form and model of our battle, Limit each leader to his several charge, And part in just proportion our small power. My Lord of Oxford-you, Sir William Brandon- And you, Sir Walter Herbert-stay with me. The Earl of Pembroke keeps his regiment; Good Captain Blunt, bear my good night to him, And by the second hour in the morning Desire the Earl to see me in my tent. Yet one thing more, good Captain, do for me- Where is Lord Stanley quarter'd, do you know? BLUNT. Unless I have mista'en his colours much- Which well I am assur'd I have not done- His regiment lies half a mile at least South from the mighty power of the King. RICHMOND. If without peril it be possible, Sweet Blunt, make some good means to speak with him |
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